


Think and Thin

by SluttyHaruka



Series: Commissions [8]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Cheating, Dildos, Doggy Style, F/M, Masturbation, Missionary Position, Non-Consensual Groping, Prostitution, Small Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8321632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SluttyHaruka/pseuds/SluttyHaruka
Summary: After a predictably lackluster round of sex with Peter, Mary Jane masturbates while thinking of her experiences with many other men, including Venom.
Commissioned by AnonymousCommission size: 3000 words





	

MJ scrunched her nose, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing to hold back a sigh. The sound that did manage to break through the barrier was slight, but noticeable. Had her hands not been occupied with guiding him deeper into her, she would have raised one to her face to give off the impression that it had been an itch. It would have been a lame excuse that he surely would not have believed and yet it would have, at least, exhibited some effort on her part. She could have avoided that brief moment when their eyes met and she saw the illusion break for him, the painful reality of their lives tearing a hole in the fantasy he had mentally built for himself, and the subsequent frantic scrambling his mind did to repair the damage, enabling him to continue pretending that he was where, and with whom, he wanted to be.

That experience would have been so easy to prevent, if she had actually cared enough to do so, ... _if_. The truth of the matter was that there simply was no _if_ anymore, not one single thing she could dream up to motivate her to even try at this point. Marriage had eroded all of the mystery and lustre in their relationship, made everything routine. There was nothing they didn't know about each other, especially not in the sack. They read each other’s rhythms perfectly and they were, and had been for quite some time, numb to the offenses they carelessly inflicted upon one another. He no longer bothered to censor his cries to Gwen - and her beautifully taut pussy - as he pumped away in her, his stubby, three inch worm slipping around between her walls without actually stimulating them.

Likewise, she no longer bothered to pretend that her cunt throbbed for another other reason than her general infatuation with sex. There was no denying that her husband, her best friend, _her hero_ had a lame dick and even worse game, nor would it be false to say that he was fucking pathetic for not divorcing her cheating ass when he learned just how often, enthusiastically she had strayed (at that point). Their friends might even be tempted to call the web slinger pussy-whipped if they learned of it, as absurdly cute as the thought of the cliche being used in such a way was to her. Hell, in that moment, her facial muscles compelled her lips to curl into a smile against her will, leaving her, no doubt, looking like a smirking idiot. The smirking idiot and the cuck husband openly fantasizing about his old crush and her _perfect_ pussy, what a couple.

Well, that wasn’t all true. Sure, he knew about her frequent whoring, but he didn’t _know_. No matter how often evidence of her dalliances was presented to him, he unfailingly failed to acknowledge it; when it was being offered to him by an adversary adamantly proclaiming that they had no intention of touching her ever again, he pretended not hear. Then he went home and fucked her while crying out to Stacy and her succulent, warm sex, shouting at the top of his lungs. If there was anything that could make him lamer as a man, it would definitely be passive aggression, so, naturally, this was the way he chose to conduct himself. And if there was anything that could make her lamer as a woman, it would be silently seething in her own mind while he erratically pumped in her for a short minute and finished with a few small spurts inside her, so, naturally, why the hell wouldn’t she do that?

How could they possibly have reached this juncture if they weren’t both utterly wretched individuals, tethered to each other by convenience? They remained together, because the misery was easy. They had made such a spectacle of their engagement and marriage that bowing out now wouldn’t just be an admission that their relationship had failed. It would expose them as the trainwreck they were, leaving them open to such shame that, even in their sorry state, they could not imagine. The formerly infatuated couple may still have been young, but they felt quite aged, too feeble to dive back into the world alone.

Peter resigned himself to slamming his hips against her pelvis, pretending it was stimulating and she resigned herself to trying to ignore it. She simply lay there, letting him work to his own completion within her, raining droplets of cum down on her distended walls, and said nothing as he unceremoniously rolled off her. She didn’t watch him leap across the room and swing out into the night through the open window, having become as accustomed to it as its equally lackluster lead-in. If her life afforded her any mercy, it came in the form of these moments’ brevity. She didn’t have to wait long to tend to her own needs.

Her tool for pleasing herself was easily accessible, given that she had long ago stopped attempting to conceal it. In a box in the bottom drawer of her bedside table was her _true_ best friend, the only thing in their home that could properly fill her. Its girth was of the likes unseen beyond niche, fetish porn, almost larger around than both of her arms. The fucker was as heavy as such a size implied, the bellend weighing the shaft down so much that it hung low as she hoisted it over herself, clutching it by the massive balls. That thick, black crown brushed along her stomach, tickling her previously dormant arousal into being, eliciting a shaky sigh. Though her cunt gaped considerably, the shape of this beast still intimidated her. Even unconnected to a man as it was, she felt that it could absolutely destroy her, rip her to pieces.

_Now_ she was fucking wet. Oh, how she hungered for it as she let it drape across her abdomen, teasing her with thoughts of how it was was going to wreck her. She squeezed its scrotum, rubber virility bulging between her fingers. Her breathing deepened, heat radiating off of her in anticipation of this monster’s entry into her body. Memories of a particular event clawed their way into her mind’s eye, accompanied by the intense emotions that had formed them. Her fear manifested itself again, but so did her lust, something which should have been wholly terrible to experience, and then relive, having had quite a different impact on her. 

Truth be told, she had no clue why it wasn’t simply traumatic. He was far too big in size and rough in his handling of her for her to have derived any physical pleasure from being filled by him. Neither did she recall actually seeing him that first time, the visuals her arousal brought to mind more dark and uncertain than concrete. What she could remember was the flashing of lights past a window while her hand gripped a cold, steel pole. The ground beneath her had been jerking just noticeably, enough to rattle her already shivering form. She had taken the train on her way home from an audition and focused her energy on the passing lamps briefly illuminating the curtain of night encompassing the car. The glass pane before her had fogged due to her rapid breathing. 

It had not gone well, at least not by her terms. Sure, she had finally landed a part following failure after crushing failure, but not because of her acting ability. No, with barely a penny to her name and few alternatives to put food on the table for her and Peter, she had caved. She had given in, dropping the script on the cruddy floor and falling to her knees for the casting director. The ache in her jaw had not abated in the trek from that office building, the _job_ having taken so long to finish that he turned away the other hopefuls as she departed. Well, those other women had lost so it didn’t matter anyway, she tried to tell herself. She had won a opportunity to demonstrate her real talents.

Her spirits hadn’t been raised by that, her mood remaining dampened. She had consented to her violation and the subsequent humiliation that accompanied her difficulty to get him off quickly. There was no way those other auditioners hadn’t figured out what went on in that room as they waited for an absurd amount of time. It had practically been etched on their faces. That was the part she couldn’t help deriving amusement from. Those idiots actually stuck around in that lobby instead of leaving to do something on the town like someone with a life. It had all only been for a minor role in a mockbuster anyway.

Mary Jane groaned, the vividity her recollection making her cunt drool, soaking the bed sheet. Allowing that mortifying prelude to play out in its entirety always made what followed so much more intense. It made her assault erotic. Sliding the shaft off her stomach, she repositioned her beast between her legs, pressing its beefy glans against her sex. She crammed the fucker inside, grunting as the air was knocked out of her lungs. The entry created a loud squelching that continued as she pumped her best friend to and fro. Sucking in what was lost, she uttered a low groan while she kept her pace steady, aiming for depth over speed.

That wasn’t quite how he had taken her, but she had no intention of wearing out her arms before the object of her affection fully had his way with her again, vicariously. Well, maybe _vicariously_ was being a bit generous. In the time since that cluster of attacks, he had been quite adamant about his lack of interest in her, calling her a ‘worthless fuck’ and dropping her into sinister society meetings to be used instead by his equally unimpressed peers. It took them far longer to outright cut her off from their cocks, but she didn’t miss them once they did. They had always been pale imitations of the real thing anyway. Though he had taken several hosts over the years, there was only one Venom symbiote. Everything else was a cheap substitute.

Sure, she couldn’t wait indefinitely for her beau to change his mind and make her his slut again without seeking lesser fixes. Peter’s shit game may have killed her buzz on many an occasion, but it didn’t change how voracious her sexual appetite was. She needed her desires to be sated on a very regular basis, necessitating immense confidence on her part. Where once the idea of surrendering her body for work shattered her sense of self worth, it now was what she sought when she craved something easy. Unlike the heroes and villains of the city, the casting directors came and went, giving her a neverending supply of fresh faces for her to throw herself at. They often knew of her in advance by reputation, but it didn’t change anything. Who, in their right mind, would turn down a free fuck?

It didn’t win her roles any more frequently than her peers. Actually, she found that over time her gigs slowly dried up instead. Fortuitously or not, she wasn’t left to ponder the reason those men and women had for freezing her out of Hollywood. They offered it to her, in no uncertain terms, each time they saw her, no matter who ‘they’ were.

“You can’t act for shit.”

Mary Jane couldn’t claim that it didn’t wound her pride to be told that by so many people, but, after Venom showed her what _true_ pleasure was, her aspirations to be a performer no longer defined her as a woman. Sure, she couldn’t act. She no longer tried to. All she wanted was to debauch herself for anyone who could be a potential sugar daddy or momma. Many ridiculed her for having a ‘blown out’ cunt, but she just saw that as evidence of how much Venom had changed her when he _crept_ up on her during that train ride. 

She truly had no idea where he had come from, only knowing that he had not been in the car when she entered it. Perhaps her wallowing had left her deaf to the world around her, blocking out everything beyond her turbulent emotions, because, in retrospect, he had not been discrete in his approach. The window pane in front of her had shuddered violently before his body collided with hers, slamming her against it. She had only just begun to feel the pain from the impact when she was yanked backyard. A clawed hand had then torn her jeans away from her legs and shredded her white dress shirt, leaving it hanging in tatters from her shoulder. It had taken until her breasts were popped out of their lace garment and she was forced to bend forward for her to realize what was happening to her.

It had been completely out of her control, her attempts to prevent him from penetrating her by clenching down hard doing nothing to halt his progress forward. He’d had such terrible power, tearing into her tiny cunt with ease and ramming into it with a ferocity even more frightening. He had drawn blood, she’d felt it trickle down as he fucked the screams right out of her. While he pierced her, subjecting her folds to a pain unlike anything she had experienced before or since, he’d had her pendulously swaying tits in his claws, pawing and kneading them. That part had not been solely unpleasant, but it wasn’t enough to offset the agony wracking her core.

And yet, now, as she hastened her hand, she was slamming her beast against her sex with the same raw intensity that he had railed her with on that night, plowing her into the window, stretching her to accommodate his girth. She squeezed and pulled on her ample bosom the same way he had when he growled low in her ear, bottoming his twitching cock out inside her, flooding her wrecked pussy with his seed. It had overflowed from her, continuing to gush from her gaping slit after he stalked away. What once was pure torture worked her so fucking well. It made her feel full, complete. The friction of her flesh on rubber produced such delicious squelching.

It was a sound that she had heard quite rarely in the time since he broke into this very room to have his way with her again. Peter had gone out, as usual, leaving her _defenseless_ to the beast that had ruined her weeks before. What followed had been an experience of an entirely different sort. Instead of shredding her clothes and tearing her away from the bed, he had leapt on top of her, pulling her panties to the side of her puffy lips and opting to slowly guide his dick into her. It had been a tight fit, but it made her melt so good, noisily sucking him into her, coaxing him deeper. She had then faced disappointment as he resisted her cunt’s moist suction, keeping to his own pace even when she pushed her fat tits together, making them bulge tantalizingly.

Mary Jane always knew how great her tits were. Those EE’s sat proudly on her chest and, following her awakening as Venom’s slut, she took it upon herself to seize each opportunity to show them off, bare their cleavage or simply wear something that accentuated their shape. The third time they fucked, she had gone out looking for him, dressed to win his cock for good. Tight latex had hugged her form in shape of a cropped spidey jersey, a spidey patterned thong whose string caught between her moist, broadened lips and two long, striped fingerless gloves. If her thirst had been too subtle, she also painted her nails blood red and donned jeans torn into booty shorts with the belt purposefully left dangling. Her desires could not have gone unnoticed had he been blind.

He had indeed noticed while she traversed some dark alleyways. In a flurry of motion, he had ripped her bottoms from her hips and forced her head to the ground, grabbing her ass and giving it the same treatment her cunt had received on that train. His thrusts had made her whole body jiggle beneath him, her moans, her squirming, her squeezing around his shaft all communicating to him how lewd she had become, how lewd he had made her.

“Fuck…”

The memory of having her tight ass brutalized on that street knocked the wind out of her again, leaving her gasping as she was pushed to the edge. Sweet rubber virility that propelled her from that plateau with its uncompromising girth...brought her to yet another one. Mary Jane groaned, her arms too worn out to move the beast with the urgency she needed. She was so fucking close! The toy was the perfect fit for her. How did it not succeed in making her cum?

She cried out in frustration, letting her sore limbs fall to her side as her buzz ebbed away. It was all so exhausting, dealing with Peter’s bullshit, reliving her trauma on her own terms, relying on her own physical strength to get herself off. And it still wasn’t enough. She was trapped in a shitty marriage, saddled with a floundering career and she couldn’t even have a fucking orgasm. As she stewed there, gazing out the window, part of her wondered what the fuck Gwen Stacy was up to anyway.


End file.
